


a knight in shining armor (that wears a sweatervest and khakis)

by zhujungjungting (runswithchopsticks)



Category: Produce 101 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff ish, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 13:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runswithchopsticks/pseuds/zhujungjungting
Summary: Euiwoong finds Hyeongseop drunk in the elevator.





	a knight in shining armor (that wears a sweatervest and khakis)

**Author's Note:**

> HI HOLY CRAP sry for not posting anything in a while,,  
> last week I was swamped w/ schoolwork (and not to mention iqiyi decided to drop the idol producer upward videos in batches of 20 so all of us were scrambling lmao) and this week I am quite bedridden with illness and subbing more things so,,
> 
> Anyways as I am typing this D-Day is in 15 hours and I don't think I'm very prepared ,, it drops at 4am my time so I guess RIP sleep ,, 加油？ add oil?

There’s that one little freshman living two floors below Hyeongseop and Seunghyuk. Hyeongseop used to wonder what his name was, but now he doesn’t anymore, because he snuck behind the front desk of his dorm building one night and flipped through all the files for the first floor residents until he found one little political science major he was looking for. _Lee Euiwoong_ \-- even his ID photo was absolutely adorable, and Hyeongseop had spent a solid two minutes cooing and making faces at it until Seunghyuk literally reached over the desk and plucked him up by the collar of his shirt, as he heard someone’s footsteps approaching and he was _definitely_ not going to get caught _again_ or else he’d likely have to switch dorms and then probably end up rooming with someone more disgusting than Hyeongseop (not that Hyeongseop isn’t unkempt and ratchety already).

Every Friday night, the two would pull out the suitcase underneath Seunghyuk’s bed and choose two bottles of liquor to down together while singing sad songs as Seunghyuk strums on his guitar (he actually can’t really play it; he only knows how to strum). Oftentimes, the topic of Hyeongseop’s ad-libbed harmonies include a cute little freshman that lives two floors below -- _Calmly and slowly, let’s get to know each other, Euiwoong. A strange man’s new scent -- but no, you’re not strange. Hyung is gonna slowly turn the steering wheel, you’ll smell me coming for a while._

Seunghyuk, in the morning, if in his hangover-ridden state is able to attain any sort of memory of the happenings of the previous night, often argues that Hyeongseop’s lyrics make absolutely no sense. But Hyeongseop immediately retorts that Seunghyuk’s lyrics, if not as terrible, are even _more_ inane -- _My knees may hurt, I am short of breath, I am tired, but yaaaa, let’s run together over the mountains and the seas even though my back feet hurt, my front feet hurt, my back hurts, my neck hurts, but my heart will never hurt for you!_

The RA doesn’t come and shut them up until it hits four in the morning, so oftentimes the two are recycling old songs no matter how terrible they seem. If one were to observe the diction and subjects used in Hyeongseop’s lyrics, they might infer that he has the same emotional cycles one might expect from a teenage girl who’s just hit puberty. Sometimes he’ll sob-sing about _fated love_ and _love at first sight_ and _kissing under the rain_ and sometimes he’ll madly sing about _I don’t think I’m capable of love_ or _step on me, maybe your soles will soothe the pain in my heart._ Really, if you could play a drinking game with Hyeongseop’s songs, take a shot every time he switches a mood. You’ll probably be drunk thirty minutes in.

It is on one of these drunken Friday nights that Hyeongseop somehow finds himself in a predicament. He doesn’t even know why he’s down in the lobby of the dormitory. He thinks he went down to go check the mail, because Seunghyuk’s suspicious package from Japan had arrived (Hyeongseop calls it “suspicious” because he has no clue of its contents, but since he knows his roommate very well, he is quite sure that they are the new volumes of whatever corny magical girl shoujo manga Seunghyuk likes to read in the middle of the night underneath his blanket and pretend that Hyeongseop can’t see the shine of the reading light through the thin wool cloth).

It is never a good idea to let a drunken Hyeongseop teeter down the ramps of his dorm by himself, because even though he is going down smooth slopes, it’s likely he’ll probably trip somehow during the journey; and he has four ramps to go down anyways, since he lives on the fourth floor. There is an elevator, of course, but it is specially reserved for residents with disabilities or those that need to transfer large things. Hyeongseop, at the moment, is wandering around the lobby, wondering where in the world the mailbox is (it’s actually right outside the dorm, but his intoxicated self isn’t able to comprehend that quite yet). He actually runs into the potted plant next to the sofa in the lobby, and he winces and groans in pain because the plant is actually a cactus and he is quite sure there are now needles stuck in his calves. There is little thought in his head, because somehow it’d all evaporated somewhere along the third floor’s ramp. Someone walks through the door, and Hyeongseop can barely recognize them as one of the RAs.

“Hyeongseop,” she says, calmly, staring at him with narrowed eyes. _Oh, it’s Meiqi,_ Hyeongseop shakily pieces together in his conscious. Her face is actually kind of blurry, but the fiery red hair gives her away.

“You are drunk,” Meiqi states, slightly cross, and Hyeongseop’s spine slumps even further.

“No, I not am,” he replies, tongue lolling a bit as he shakes his head.

“You just said ‘I not am’,” Meiqi points out. “It is four in the morning, Hyeongseop.” It briefly crosses Hyeongseop’s mind: Why is Meiqi just returning home at four A.M.? But the question flies away as immediately as it’d appeared, because now Meiqi is grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him along somewhere. The only thing he can do is stumble around and drunkenly swivel his head back and forth with slurred protests falling from his lips. He somehow trips over flat ground again, but Meiqi doesn’t really care -- she’s still dragging him along like a rag doll.

“Go to your room and sleep, why in the world are you out and about at four in the morning while drunk?” Meiqi offhandedly questions. “I can’t believe you and Seunghyuk. Where is he? I dearly hope he’s not wandering around the building like you are.”

“I w-wasn’t wandering just you see maybe some manga--” Hyeongseop tries to explain, but obviously he makes just as much sense as Seunghyuk trying to stammer through an explanation as to why in the world his dakimakura has a different anime character on it this week when Hyeongseop was quite sure the pillow cover had been changed only a short while ago.

Meiqi huffs, and she’s jamming the up button to the elevator in front on them with a firm grip still around Hyeongseop’s wrist.

When the metal doors slide open, she steps in, Hyeongseop in tow. “Go to bed,” she says, staring critically at Hyeongseop -- has he even heard her? “I’ll be by to check on you in the morning. Please don’t throw up in the hallway.” This is the last thing she says before smashing the _4_ button and jumping out of the elevator. Hyeongseop is gripping onto the railing, because now his source of balance (Meiqi) has been lost. His thoughts that Meiqi just left him in the elevator form a good few seconds after the doors swish closed, and when the compartment begins to rise, a sensation similar to his heart dropping into his stomach when he's thrown from the very top of a rollercoaster arises in his torso. The jolt is forceful enough that he collapses on the floor, slumping into a corner of the elevator.

And, well, if Hyeongseop had not already downed a bottle of vodka, maybe he’d be able to figure out a way to stand up again, but instead, he just folds down in his corner and begins to sing.

“ _If I weren’t without you, then maybe I would’ve not seen how you don’t love me, I can’t wait until we go on that ride together, that one where we cross bridges built from hummingbirds…_ ”

He doesn’t exactly know how long he spends drawling (and drooling) about lost love and frolicking in meadows, but somewhere along his world turns black and solemn and his lyrics fade into mumbles as the drool on his chin dries, but his mouth is still crooked open and occasionally a snore falls out.

The next time he actually recalls (to some degree) what is happening to him, there is someone’s face very close to his. Well, he thinks it is someone’s face, because although its features are blurry, it seems to resemble a face, though Hyeongseop still can’t really tell anyways. All of his senses make him feel like he’s sitting somewhere deep underwater -- sight blurry, hearing muddled, and there’s pressures closing in on both sides of his head that makes him permanently scowl (but to many other people, Hyeongseop scowling looks more like he is trying to laugh at someone’s terrible joke -- that “someone” most often being Seunghyuk).

“Do you think he’s dead?” someone asks.

The face in front of Hyeongseop rolls its eyes. “Don’t be silly, Haknyeon. He’s still breathing. See? Also, if he weren’t alive, how would his face wrinkle this badly?”

“Are you sure he’s doing it on purpose? Maybe his face is actually that wrinkly naturally and that’s his sleeping face. You know, when people die they look like they’re sleeping.”

“That’s such a dumb explanation, dude. You can clearly see him breathing too. Come on, just help me like, move him to somewhere that’s not the damn _elevator._ How long has he even been sitting here anyways?”

“How would I know? We just got back, man. I don’t patrol the halls at like, 6 in the morning.”

There’s a scoffing noise, and Hyeongseop feels a cool breath in front of his face. If he were capable of smelling properly, he’d notice the peppermint scent.

“Just help me get him somewhere that’s _not_ the elevator?” A pair of hands reach underneath Hyeongseop’s armpits and attempt to lift him up. The person’s fingernails dig into the flesh of his arms, and he groans instinctively.

“See? Alive.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“You know, you could at least, like, _help_ me? I can’t lift him up all by myself.”

“Aren’t you ripped?”

“Are you serious, you’re asking me that _now_ \--”

“Okay, okay! Whatever, I’ll help you.”

There’s another pair of hands grabbing onto his ankles, and Hyeongseop’s suddenly up in the air. His head lolls back, hanging from his neck as if he really were dead, and he furrows his brows together. What’s going on? Is he being beamed up into a spaceship by a group of aliens? This has always been his dream. But then, it comes to him -- what about Seunghyuk? Who’s going to scrub his back for him when he takes a bath because he’s so inflexible, cranky, and crunchy that he can’t even do it himself?

“I can’t believe it. We look like we’re trying to transport a dead body, Woong.”

“For the last time, Haknyeon, he’s _not_ dead! Just drunk and probably an idiot. Who the hell gets drunk in an _elevator_?”

The only word that properly passes through Hyeongseop’s head is “idiot”. He tries to protest, but when he gets to opening his mouth, the words won’t come out, and instead he’s croaking dryly with his jaw hanging open as his head lolls around in time with the steps of the two people that’re carrying him.

“Oh, definitely an idiot. You’re right.”

Hyeongseop instinctively squeaks. The rest of the journey down the hallway, he makes random gurgling noises, as prompted by shifts in his head’s positioning as he is transported. Soon enough, he’s placed on something cool and cushy -- if he were sober, maybe he’d sigh in relaxation, because he hadn’t realized how extremely uncomfortable it was both sitting upright in an elevator (his rear ended up turning numb -- the elevator carpet isn’t exactly soft and plush) and being carried by the armpits and ankles down a hallway.

“Do we have any food and water?”

“Nah, unless you count champagne and a jar of dill pickles as food and water.”

“Didn’t you just go grocery shopping on Thursday?”

“Okay, fine, I’ll go down to the kitchen and get some water. Maybe there’s some leftovers from last night… oh, I hope somebody might’ve left some bread as well…” The voice trails off, and there’s a few seconds pause before the person remaining speaks.

“Hey.” A warm palm reaches up to pat Hyeongseop’s face. His forehead automatically wrinkles more at the sensation. “Can you wake up?”

Hyeongseop lets out a breath. He’s finally been prodded enough to the point where he’s teetering more towards the conscious side of things instead of feeling like he could pass out black again at any moment. Well, it’s painfully obvious that he’s becoming aware of his surroundings because the pounding in his head has magnified, and when he cracks open an eye, the bleak morning light coming in from the window nearly makes him shriek.

“Woah, woah, you’re not being kidn--” the person squatting in front of him says, placing his hands on Hyeongseop’s shoulders and trying to force him back down.

“A-Are you God?” Hyeongseop croaks out, his eyes widening as he’s being shoved back into the mattress. This face staring at him is very familiar. It’s very cute, and he wants nothing more than to smash his own face into it. Is he in heaven?

“I-I’m not…” the guy sitting in front of him begins, his voice trailing off as he frowns oddly at Hyeongseop. His palms are still pressed on Hyeongseop’s shoulders.

“But you are God,” Hyeongseop whispers, eyes opening even wider despite the throbbing in his head. The more he opens his eyes, he realizes, the more light seems to shine around the form of this guy. God, right? “Who else would be so beautiful?”

“‘B-Beautiful’--” the guy squeaks, “--what in the world…”

“What is your name?” And now Hyeongseop’s got his palms on this guy’s cheeks. He swears he knows his name--his face is indeed terribly familiar, and not to mention that his ears stick out a lot; whose ears do that?--but for the moment, he’s acting purely upon his feelings, because who in the world has reason when they’ve got a hangover?

“L-Lee E-Euiwoong?” the guy replies, with a lilt in his voice that suggests he might not even know his own name.

Well, even in his hangover state, Hyeongseop is able to recognize the name, because he's spent so much time doodling it in his notebooks. “Oh, my love,” he croons, “you don't know how long I've waited to finally meet you!”

“I-- what?”

“Oh, has someone finally confessed to you, Woong? It's been a long time. I'm proud,” Haknyeon quips as he slides back into the room with a glass of water and an apple.

“That wasn't really a confession,” Euiwoong points out with a raised eyebrow. “He's probably still drunk.”

“I'm sane!” Hyeongseop protests. “I swear, I'm not drunk any-- oh…” he winces, grabbing at his head. It seems that raising his voice made his headache fluctuate.

“Rest,” Euiwoong says gently, pressing against Hyeongseop's shoulder with a palm. “Which room are you in? Do you have a roommate?”

“F-Four twenty-eight, Choi Seunghyuk,” Hyeongseop grits out, clawing at his head with a hand.

“Oh, I actually know him! We have anthropology together. Hmm, I'll go find him!” Haknyeon cheerily volunteers, and he's bounding out of the room without a single word.

Euiwoong sighs in exasperation, finally allowing himself to collapse on the floor.

“You really are beautiful, Euiwoong. The cute kinda beautiful,” Hyeongseop murmurs.

“You're drunk,” is Euiwoong's immediate reply.

“I'm not! Just hungover!” Hyeongseop retorts, his words a bit garbled. “And an idiot apparently. If I were drunk, do you think I'd have been able to comprehend what you and Haknyeon were talking about and remember it?”

Euiwoong just blows air, sticking up his nose. He wants to refuse Hyeongseop's explanation. The room is entirely silent for the next few minutes with the exception of Euiwoong muttering under his breath and grumbling about how he is so embarrassed -- well, his face doesn't show it, and Hyeongseop isn't quite sure he actually _is_ saying he is embarrassed, but he'd like to think his compliments did _something._

Haknyeon returns with a grumpy Seunghyuk some time later. Seunghyuk is rubbing his eyes and frowning, pajamas disheveled as he steps into the room.

“Please pick up your child from daycare,” Haknyeon states cheekily. “Unfortunately, we only have champagne and sink water left, both of which are detrimental to developing brains, and I am quite sure your child is practically parched.”

“Champagne,” Seunghyuk mutters. “Fancy, especially for freshmen.”

“We try!” Haknyeon hums.

“Anyways, Woong, I thought you collapsed somewhere.” Seunghyuk awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I tried to call 911 but I typed in 191 by accident and someone speaking Portuguese answered, so I gave up.”

“Wow, what a caring parent,” Hyeongseop sarcastically drawls. “Love you too, dad.”

“But imagine, if I hadn't given up on calling the police, you wouldn't have gotten to meet the love of your life.” Seunghyuk pointedly eyes Euiwoong.

“What is going on,” Euiwoong interrupts flatly. “There seems to be a joke, but I'm not in on it.”

“The only joke here is that while at the grocery store, Hyeongseop mistook a loofa on a stick for a toilet scrubber and now he always has difficulty cleaning the toilet on the rare occasions that he does,” Seunghyuk replies, crossing his arms. Hyeongseop squeaks in protest.

“But other than that, it's just that Hyeongseop has had an eye for you ever since you moved in, Euiwoong. He's just too much of a creep and too much of a doormat to say anything unless he is under the influence of something.”

“So you are still drunk.” Euiwoong narrows his eyes at Hyeongseop.

“N-No…” Hyeongseop weakly protests.

“I’m going back to bed,” Seunghyuk says, running a hand through his hair, and he is out of sight before anyone can say anything. That leaves Haknyeon awkwardly standing in the doorway, and he scampers off not a moment later with an excuse to bring Hyeongseop more water even though he hasn't touched the glass Haknyeon previously brought in.

“Do you find me handsome?” Hyeongseop asks innocently.

“Why are you asking me this?” Euiwoong replies, squinting.

“Well, I find you handsome, so do you find me handsome?”

Euiwoong sighs, leaning back onto his palms braced behind him. “I told you, rest. Go to sleep.”

“This isn't even my bed.”

“Well, do you want me to force you to go back to your own room? Up two flights of stairs?”

“If you carried me, I wouldn't mind. You are ripped, aren't you?” Hyeongseop grins. Nothing can be seen from Euiwoong's sweater vest and khakis, but Hyeongseop is tacking a pin onto Euiwoong with an educated guess.

“You heard,” Euiwoong grumbles. “I hate Haknyeon.”

“Hm, well I don't. I think I'll take your suggestion and sleep now.” Hyeongseop hums happily and proceeds to bury his face into the pillow. He hears Euiwoong begin to protest, but the latter's voice tapers off and soon there is shuffling as Euiwoong gets up. Hyeongseop falls asleep easily, because he is truly exhausted having been up and about at four in the morning.

But you see, because of being hungover, Hyeongseop gets to bond greatly with Euiwoong. What better way can you go about building a relationship other than rubbing someone's back awkwardly as you watch them squeam up internal juices into the ever-majestic white toilet bowl?

It's not like Hyeongseop has much to regurgitate either (unless you count poorly-written love songs, but unfortunately it is quite difficult for him to sing and retch at the same time). Euiwoong just furrows his brows and awkwardly pats Hyeongseop. He's glad Hyeongseop doesn't have long hair that he'd have to hold back for him.

Once Hyeongseop is done heaving, Euiwoong dabs at his mouth with a towel and frowns at Hyeongseop, who eyes him curiously.

“You probably don't find me handsome I guess,” Hyeongseop awkwardly laughs as Euiwoong rinses the towel.

“Why would you say that?” Euiwoong nonchalantly replies.

“You've seen me throw up,” Hyeongseop points out. “I can't really expect anyone to like me if that's one of the first impressions they have of me, even if they're my knight in shining armor.”

“I saved you from potential embarrassment at being discovered having passed out drunk in the elevator, not from fire-spewing dragons and evil witches,” Euiwoong sarcastically replies. “And besides, pretty much everyone throws up when hungover. Even my so-called 'beautiful’ self.”

“So you admit it. You admit that you’re beautiful.” Hyeongseop grins.

Euiwoong laughs softly. “It's not like I rejected it in the first place.”

“Then what about me? You never gave me a straight answer as to whether I am handsome or not.”

“You aren't _that_ handsome with a sunken face, dark circles, and leaning over the toilet,” Euiwoong states, placing his hands on his hips.

“Okay,” Hyeongseop begins. He pauses, thinking for a moment. “Then, if that is the case, would you like to see me do the opposite of throwing up? When I don’t have a sunken face, dark circles, and am not leaning over the toilet.”

“Would I like to do see you do _what?_ ” Euiwoong raises his eyebrows in stark confusion and a little shock.

“The opposite of throwing up,” Hyeongseop repeats.

“I don't know what you're referring to, but that doesn't sound appealing.”

“Eat.” Hyeongseop rolls his eyes. When Euiwoong seems to still not have understood, Hyeongseop adds, “I'm asking you if you would like to, uh, eat with me.”

“Like… a date,” Euiwoong flatly states.

“Yes?” Hyeongseop puts on a hopeful smile.

Euiwoong breezes past Hyeongseop easily. “I'll consider,” he hums.

“That's all you have to say to me after you've seen me literally bare my guts out to you?”

“Yes.”

Hyeongseop sighs, turning around. “I guess I'll start throwing up again,” he calls out, and not a moment later is Euiwoong grabbing onto his wrist and tugging him out of the bathroom’s reach, which may or may not be a good idea, because if Hyeongseop _actually_ does start throwing up, it all will land on the carpet.

“No!” Euiwoong yelps, “Fine, I'll date you!”

Hyeongseop laughs heartily, throwing his head back and holding onto his stomach as Euiwoong gripes at himself at what he's suddenly agreed to. In fact, Hyeongseop laughs so hard that he feels like throwing up again, and it's immediately a mad dash to the bathroom for him.

Haknyeon stumbles in some time later, looking quite disheveled, and Euiwoong and Hyeongseop would suspiciously ask him why he looks so unkempt if not for the fact that Hyeongseop is regurgitating into the toilet and Euiwoong looks like he's about to murder his roommate if he takes a step closer.

It's not like Haknyeon cares too much either. He knows Euiwoong's favorite way of showing people he's not heartless and that he is starting to grow an attachment (no matter how odd) is by doting on them. If Hyeongseop had long hair or were a girl (or even both?), maybe Euiwoong would be holding back his hair for him.

**Author's Note:**

> anyways thank you for reading! pls support woongseop and my yuehua boys on idol producer!!  
> /cough even tho these r not yh but pls especially zheng ruibin, deng langyi, jiang jingzuo, and yang feitong (zzt is cancelled and justin and fcc have been disowned)
> 
> you will see a cc/justin fic from me soon hh  
> 


End file.
